


I'll take my pride and throw it on the fire

by sweettasteofbitter



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Battle Couple, F/F, Getting Stitched Up, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Tent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 16:36:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12752070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweettasteofbitter/pseuds/sweettasteofbitter
Summary: Cassandra gets wounded and Adaar is there to patch her up. A realization of feelings ensues.





	I'll take my pride and throw it on the fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wintertree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintertree/gifts).



> Title comes from The Healer, a song by KT Tunstall.
> 
> (Hey recipient, I heeded your "Cassandra hires Adaar to get the mages that killed her brother" prompt, so this is a bit of an alternative timeline/canon.)

“What were you _thinking_?” The words are thin between Adaar’s gritted teeth.

Cassandra’s fingers dig into the thin fabric of the improvised field bed upon which she is seated. Her shirt is torn open, a scarlet-stained rag shaped around the wound in her shoulder. Both of them smell of dirt, sweat, and blood. Adaar has been muttering about the dangers of infection under her breath for twenty minutes. Cassandra knows the dangers all too well, but she has lost quite a bit of blood, and the taste of iron on her tongue where she bit through it when the blade hit her shoulder makes her think less clearly.

Oh, but it hurts. The gash is nasty, and Cassandra hisses whenever she moves ever so slightly. She looks away while Adaar stitches her up; she is far from squeamish and has patched up strangers and friends alike, but it is different when it is her own flesh and blood. It’s a testament of her own failure.

“I am a trained – _argh_ – Seeker,” Cassandra groans.

“Which apparently doesn’t stop mages from pulling out a knife and throwing it at you. If they had aimed a few inches to the right I would be _burying_ you instead.”

Cassandra remains silent at that. There was a time, once, when it was attractive to her to be careless, for the uncertainty of it, the danger. That time has passed, but her need for justice hasn’t. There is unfinished business, out there, and Cassandra intends to make sure it becomes finished business sometime soon. This is why Adaar is here, helping her. A hired force turned…partner? Friend? Cassandra isn’t entirely sure, so vague the lines have become. Even though they butt heads every now and then, Adaar is the closest thing Cassandra has had to a friend in years.

They have been traveling together for a few months now, and although neither one of them is very outgoing, there is comfort found in silence, and solidarity in shared meals. They protect each other, often from themselves and their own stubbornness. They make an excellent team: Adaar remains calm when Cassandra wants to rush in, and Cassandra is often the push Adaar needs to proceed. There is an unspoken understanding between the two of them about many things, and a mutual respect towards each other’s capabilities.

“Cassandra,” Adaar puts the finished touches to her handiwork. “I’m going to need you to communicate more clearly before you rush off into battle.”

“If you would just _listen,_ ” Cassandra spats.

“If I had listened, we would both be dead,” Adaar’s voice is surprisingly calm, and Cassandra can feel the relief of being alive set in. Curious, how Adaar has that effect on her.

Adaar carefully puts bandages around Cassandra’s shoulder, but she poignantly avoids Cassandra’s eyes. Her hands are steady, but she is breathing unsteadily through her nose. It is then that Cassandra realizes that Adaar is scared. Scared for the both of them.

It is easy to forget that Adaar is much younger than her. Without Adaar, Cassandra would not be sitting here, and she’s grateful for that. Adaar shows promise, and Cassandra admires her steadfastness and her sense of purpose. Too bad Adaar is inclined to think too much; they would get more done if they didn’t spend half of their time haggling, with Adaar coming up with at least four ways in which their plans could go wrong.

“You need to recover,” Adaar says strictly.

Cassandra tenses up. She does not like the sound of that. She tries to move to show she will do fine, but her shoulder protests harshly. She curses.

“Be. Careful,” Adaar hisses. “You really don’t want me to redo those stitches.”

Cassandra frowns, but that doesn’t faze Adaar.

“Rest is important with this injury,” she emphasizes, as though she is talking to a child. “And I care about getting through with our mission…and about your wellbeing.”

Adaar waits a few seconds, just looking at Cassandra. Then she puts her hand against Cassandra’s cheek, a simple supportive gesture.

Cassandra doesn’t back away. She is surprised by how much comfort it brings, and even more surprised by how much her inner voice yells at her to make a move. Her eyes widen, and Adaar’s fingers become light against Cassandra’s jaw. Something pleasant twists in Cassandra’s gut, and she masks her welcome discomfort with a small cough.

She has thought of this, during the night, with Adaar soundly asleep next to her, but it is foolish to think anything will ever come of it. Even this touch springs from kindness, not want, Cassandra is certain of it.

“We will make it through this, Cassandra, but only if you heed my advice.”

“Fine,” Cassandra grumbles.

The corner of Adaar’s mouth curls into a smile. She retreats her hand, and the moment is gone.

“Good. I will be watching you.”

Adaar crawls out of the tent in search of some firewood, Cassandra watches her leave, mind just hazy enough that it takes a while for her to snap out of it.

It will take Cassandra considerable weeks to realize that Adaar reciprocates her feelings, and then some more to broach the topic. It isn’t until they are alone, in the aftermath of their journey’s final fight that leaves them delirious with sweet victory, that a confession flows out of her. But the way her heart threatens to jump out of her chest when the dam breaks and Adaar kisses her, breath hot against hers, and crushes her against her bedroll makes it worth it, in the end.

“You could’ve told me earlier, you know,” Adaar says after their first time, as frantic as it was wonderful, her soft cheek rubbing against Cassandra’s breast.

“Well, I didn’t. Yet it led us here, in the end.”

“True,” Adaar admits, pulling herself up to fit her mouth against Cassandra’s, satiated, happy. “And I’m glad it did.”

(Adaar remains the closest thing Cassandra has had to a friend in years.)


End file.
